


Four Seasons

by PortiaAdams



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: 2020 US Presidential Election, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Four Seasons Total Landscaping (US Political RPF), Gen, M/M, Warning: Donald Trump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PortiaAdams/pseuds/PortiaAdams
Summary: This fic came to me when I saw the first Supernatural/Four Seasons AU pop up on Tumblr. Boardwalk Empire seemed a natural fit for this insane timeline. What will you find here? Richard owns a landscaping company, Eli can't get enough of Among Us, plus Meyer and Charlie decide to get their kink on.
Relationships: Angela Darmody/Jimmy Darmody, Meyer Lansky/Lucky Luciano, Richard Harrow/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	Four Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this also an AU of my fic Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, so Nucky has a daughter, Clara, who is a few months younger than Jimmy. The Commodore stands in for Rudy Giuliani. Everything else, well...

“That goddamn imbecile has lost this fucking election, Arnold!” Nucky yelled into his iPhone. Around him, no one but James looked up from their device. James was narrating some fucking nonsensical content designed for idiots with attention spans that could be measured in seconds, and Nucky didn’t miss that he sighed with annoyance at the interruption before stepping out of the room.

Arnold frowned. It certainly didn’t look good, and his plans required an easily manipulated idiot in charge to achieve his priorities. “It’s not over yet, Nucky. In fact, if anyone knows how to correct these situations it’s you.” 

“I know you had a very important and very illegal party at INKwell last night, so perhaps you haven’t been keeping up with the vote counts. Pennsylvania will be called for Biden by early afternoon, and that’s all he needs. Fuck Georgia, fuck Nevada, fuck Arizona, Pennsylvania wins it for him.”

“Sometimes when you are dealt a losing hand the way to win is by manipulating the table. Get out in front of this. Make the base think Trump did win, if only those dastardly Democrats hadn’t intervened. Invalidate the vote.” Rothstein instructed.

“Intervened how, by getting more votes?” Nucky snarled.

“Aren’t you the one who always says don’t let the truth interfere with a good story, Nucky? Call a press conference, get some people who can spin a cohesive tale about how the Democrats are stealing the election, and do it right before Pennsylvania falls to Biden. Someone can track the tangerine down on the golf course and have him tweet along with us.”

Arnold Rothstein motioned for Charlie and Meyer, who were sitting across from him. Thompson was, per usual, being intensely dramatic. Still. He’d send the boys to Philly to keep an eye on everything.

Nucky slammed his fist against the desk. It wasn’t the worst idea. “Fine. I’ll organize it for 11:30.”

He looked for James but he was out in the hallway talking to himself. “Eli!” Nucky barked. “Call the Four Seasons, it’s the only damn decent hotel in that hellhole city, and tell them we are going to have a Presidential Press Conference at 11:30.”

Damn it, Eli thought. He thought he’d just figured out the imposter. He grabbed Neary’s phone out of his hand and tried to open Safari so he didn’t have to close the game on his phone. Damn it, it was a fucking Samsung! What kind of dick buys a Samsung, he wondered? What did the Chrome icon even look like? He had a task to perform in Among Us that required most of his attention, but finally, he managed to get some fucking internet browser opened in Neary’s ridiculous phone and typed in ‘Four Seasons’. He pressed the first phone number that popped up.

“Four. Seasons...” a gravelly voice answered.

Jesus Christ, did the Four Seasons staff the front desk with the ghost of Vincent Price? Eli thought while he avoided doing a task in the game.

“I’m Eli Thompson. I need to schedule a press conference for President Trump’s legal team,” Damn it, the player he thought was the imposter just died!

“You want. To hold a. Press conference. Here?” Richard Harrow said, looking out the window at the crematorium across the street and saw the terrifying owner of the sex shop, Sally, pull into the parking lot.

“Are you fucking deaf? Set up a podium, and get ready for us to host the world at 11:30!”

“Sir, I think. Mmm. You are. Trying to call…”

“Jesus, I don’t have time for this. Can you host the goddamn president’s team at 11:30 or not?”

“Absolutely,” Richard said. He knew there was a podium back in storage, they used it when they set up graduations at local private schools. He’d be happy to provide a backdrop for the president’s press conference.

If he set it up just right, the dildo sign next door would be front and center. He picked up his phone, an Android that didn’t even have a brand name, and started composing a tweet. He’d only learned to use Twitter to promote his business, but never dreamed he could promote it on this level. Mostly he just posted pictures of work he did with no captions.

As Eli mashed the phone button to end the call, the real imposter snuck up behind him and killed him.

* * *

“James!” Nucky thundered. Jimmy sighed. Nucky had just ruined another Instagram story he was prepping. “Trump’s asked the Commodore to hold a press conference at the Four Seasons at 11:30. Twitter it or whatever the hell ever and make sure everyone knows.”

Okay, sure, Jimmy thought. Let me send a message to the whole world that we are going to undermine the election based on a few words barked at me. Sounded like a well-thought-out plan to Jimmy. And this meant he’d have to deal with the Commodore, which...

He lifted his iPhone 11, opened Later, and crafted a message that would work on several social media platforms, and scheduled the message to go out. A few minutes later his phone pinged. The president had tweeted the information. God damn it, the president had tweeted the press conference was at 11:00 when it was really at 11:30. How the fuck did this clown end up as the leader of the free world? He had bankrupted casinos. In Atlantic City. Hell, they were basically a license to print money!

Jimmy was trying to get through to Hope Hicks when his phone lit up. Why the fuck was Clara texting him? 

_ WTF Jimmy? Now you and Dad are just blatantly undermining Democracy?  _

_ Dad’s a lost cause, but I expect BETTER of you. Also, the landscape company looks a million times less tacky than the awful tower, but really, that’s where you are mounting this demented last stand? _

The hell was Clara going on about? Damn, they all knew she was the wokest white girl on the Eastern Seaboard, but this was nonsensical.

_The hell? The press conference is at the Four Seasons,_ Jimmy texted in reply.

His phone pinged again within seconds.

_ Four Seasons LANDSCAPING.  _

_ ridnnzkaoepekrnsmxmxn _

_ OMG did you idiots think you were booking the hotel? LMFAO. _

_ It’s a DAMN miracle a pandemic that killed over 200k people and an economy teetering on the edge of disaster is the WORST that has happened.  _

_ Don’t worry-I’ve tagged all the news outlets so they know where to go! _

Screenshots came in the next text. One tweet from the Four Seasons Hotel saying they had nothing to do with the presser, and the other one a tweet from something called Four Seasons Landscaping announcing they were hosting the press conference. And then retweets from several of Clara’s sockpuppet accounts tagging every major news outlet in the country.

Damn it! And did Clara just live with Twitter open on her phone, looking for shit that was going to ruin his day? 

“Nuck, we got an issue,” Jimmy said as he re-entered the office.

“Jesus, James, can’t you handle anything without my help?”

“I can handle a lot, actually, Nuck. But one thing I learned in the military is the concept of pay grades, and this is above mine. I’m not sure who called the Four Seasons…”

“It was Eli,” Nucky snapped. “Why the fuck does that matter?”

“Because he didn’t call the Four Seasons hotel, he called the Four Seasons Landscaping Company. That’s who is getting set up to host a press conference for the President of the United States Legal Team.”

“WHAT? God damn it, ELI!” I’m going to fucking kill him when I get my hands on him, Nucky thought before turning back to Jimmy. “Don’t just stand there, get the fucking hotel on the phone and fix this!”

“I tried that. They basically said they want no part of this debacle.”

Nucky put his hand over his eyes. Fuck he missed smoking. James was going to pay dearly for that debacle comment “Get down to…”

“State Road. Here’s the Google Maps image,” Jimmy said, opening up another screenshot Clara had helpfully sent him.

Jimmy had to bite his lip, hard, to keep from laughing when Nucky saw the street view where Trump’s team was going to mount its last stand

“Jesus Fucking Christ, this started on a golden damn escalator and is ending on a pile of dirt!”

“Well, Nuck, it shows the President’s concern for small businesses in these troubled times. Perhaps that’s a better image than a fancy ballroom during a raging pandemic,” Jimmy offered.

“We don’t acknowledge that it’s a pandemic,” Nucky snapped. “But...that’s not a bad idea. James, go down there and get it ready.”

“Trump’s tweeting the wrong time and location,” Jimmy said.

Nucky considered beating his head against his desk. “Fine, I’ll deal with all of it.”

“One more thing, Nuck. It’s about the Commodore. Ever heard of Borat?”

* * *

There was only one word for it: Richard was panicking. When that rude man called up and wouldn’t stop talking long enough for Richard to tell him he had called the wrong number he had lost his temper-he tried to keep his composure always, but sometimes he could get pushed. 

Certainly, he despised Trump. Watching corporations get bailed out when he got a $1200 stimulus check and a $1000 grant didn’t help. He didn’t even qualify for a loan. Keeping the business open in the spring had been a tightwire act, and he worried about the winter. Usually, in the spring and summer, he made enough money to keep afloat in the winter, but this year he hadn’t been able to put anything back. And what if the pandemic worsened? He wasn’t a Biden supporter either, having voted for Bernie in the primary. Still, though, he’d voted for Biden by mail a couple of weeks ago and was happy to see his home county, Portage County, stayed blue in a sea of red rural counties in Wisconsin. 

But now there were news vans in his parking lot and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t like people to look at him. Plastic surgery could only do so much to fix the wound inflicted in a Middle Eastern desert. He was the only person who knew who liked that everyone was wearing masks. His left eye socket, which was now no longer built of bone and sported an acrylic eye was still visible, but the mask covered up the damage to the left side of his cheek and mouth that the surgeries never quite corrected.

“Richard!” a little voice called out from the door. 

The good side of his mouth smiled under the mask. He reached under the counter for the Halloween candy he’d bought on clearance a couple of days ago. 

Angela smiled at him from the door, and when he held up the candy so only she could see it she nodded her assent. Richard lifted Tommy onto the counter and handed him the bag of M&Ms.

“I have the drawings for the Horvitz garden,” Angela said and pulled them from her bag. She worked for a landscape designer doing sketches for complicated jobs. It’s how they became friends. “What’s going on outside?” 

“Mmm. I think. I’ve made a. Mistake.”

The front door banged loudly open and a small blonde whose attitude was much larger than her stature stumbled through the door. She looked like she was still feeling the effects of her Friday night, but she also looked like she was ready to murder someone.

“Damn it, Harrow! You know Saturday is my busiest day at the store. Why the hell are their people parked all across the parking lot?”

“The president’s. Men are. Going to have a. Press conference.”

Sally frowned. “Didn’t he already lose? Doesn’t he understand I have a business to keep going?”

Two men in very nice suits stood in the parking lot and slowly walked towards the building.

“Meyer, there ain’t no fucking way we’re in the right spot.”

Meyer sighed and showed Charlie the tweet. “The President himself tweeted this address,” 

Charlie stood in the parking lot and looked around. “There’s a god damn dildo shop next door. What the fuck?”

Angela couldn’t hide her delight at the story and was busy following the news on Twitter. Sally smiled before walking out the door. If the Trump crew was going to keep her customers away from her store today she was going to make up for it in free advertising. She had some extra signs advertising her wares she could hang on the side of the building.

“I know how you are going to make it through the winter. Merch! Can you throw together a website for t-shirts and stickers, like the one you made me so I could sell my drawings?”

“Merch?”

Angela smiled at him. “Richard, you are about to be the owner of the most famous landscape company in the world. I guarantee you people are going to want shirts. Especially if we make them clever. I’m thinking, Make America Rake Again?”

Richard made a noise she knew was a laugh. “Lawn. And Order?”

“I’ll start working on the designs! Mind if I use the back office, mind watching Tommy?” Angela asked as she pulled her MacBook from her leather bag.

Richard nodded his assent, gave Tommy a pad of paper and a pack of crayons he kept just for Tommy’s visits before opening Squarespace and beginning work on adding an online store to his simple, static business page.

God damn, Jimmy thought as he pulled out. This is worse than I thought. That sex shop is...something. And the smoke from the crematorium adds a certain ambiance as well. The two men in suits caught his eye. So far the media was outside the landscaping company’s borders, but how had these two gotten in? Then he realized. Lansky and fucking Luciano.

The door to the landscaping office burst open again. Richard looked up, startled, and Tommy almost dropped an M&M. A young woman wearing an olive green sweater over a white button-down shirt and jeans stood looking at him. Most of her face was hidden by a blue mask with the word VOTE and a Rosie the Riveter image emblazoned on it. Over the mask, a pair of large blue eyes stared back at him and looked somewhat terrified.

“Does the crematorium drum up business by having that man stand on the corner and scare people to death? And really, I’m not sure who was worse, he or the woman who looked like a low-rent Bettie Page!”

“Nelson. And Lucy. They...” he wasn’t sure what to say about them, actually. He often felt like they were measuring him for an urn every time they looked at him.

The woman nodded. He watched her fingers twist into the hem of her sweater. The sweater looked soft. He wondered what her fingers felt like.

“I’m looking for the owner?” she asked.

The owner, Richard thought. She needed to speak with the owner.

“That’s Richard!” Tommy announced. 

“And who might you be?” the woman asked in a calmer voice.

“Tommy Darmody!”

She flinched and looked at the boy questioningly.

The woman was now standing next to the plexiglass divider that separated those behind and in front of the counter. “Are you Richard?”

“Richard. Harrow.”

“And this is?”

“My friend’s. Little boy.”

She nodded. “I’m Clara Thompson. I’m afraid my father is planning on using you to undermine our Republic. I have to ask-do you support Trump?”

Richard took a deep breath. “No. I voted for Biden.”

Her eyes crinkled and he thought she was smiling. “Good, I’ve been going through your Twitter history and you didn’t seem like a MAGA-ite.”

He looked up at her quickly before looking back down at the counter. “I would. Mmm. Have rather. Voted for Bernie.”

She laughed. “Well, I would have rather voted for Warren but here we are. How did this happen?”

Richard knew she was asking did he end up hosting Trump’s attempt to discredit what was, in Richard’s opinion, a fair and soon to be complete election. “A very rude man. Called and I tried to. Tell him.”

“It was probably my Uncle Eli. See, my cousin Nora taught him to play Among Us and he’s very into it. You should have seen what a disaster he was the summer the kids told him about Pokemon Go. It’s a wonder Atlantic City survived it, really.”

Clara took a deep breath. “And I’m here because I’ve made this worse for you. I thought it was hilarious that they meant to book the hotel and instead got you. So I tweeted...everyone. The media, bloggers, podcasters...everyone. The whole world is about to show up on your doorstep for this debacle.”

Richard nodded. “I know. Mmm. It’s why my friend is designing merch.”

* * *

“So how’s this work?” Jimmy asked as he approached Lansky and Luciano.

“We’re here under Rothstein’s order to keep an eye for him.”

“So do what we tell you is what Meyer’s sayin’.” Charlie chimed in.

“Why?” Jimmy asked. “I’m willing to listen to Rothstein but not some guy carrying his water.”

“The fuck’s with you? I make a friendly gesture, but this busted out asshole…”

“Charlie,” Meyer said, the warning clear in his voice.

“We’re friends now,” Jimmy asked incredulously, “after you fucking come near my mother?”

“Charlie,” Meyer warned again.

“She begged for it,” Charlie began.

Jimmy was fast and was on Charlie in a matter of seconds. What occurred next could best be described as a slap fight, the type usually witnessed on a preschool playground. 

Meyer sighed deeply. Honestly, if every major media outlet in the land wasn’t beginning to gather he might let it continue. As it were, he’d be dealing with Charlie later. He stepped between the two taller men and separated them with one good shove.

“Gentleman! We are here to do business. Yes? Yes?”

Jimmy and Charlie both took a step back, but they, they were such jocks, Meyer thought with disdain. You could feel the testosterone pulsating off them.

“A question for you, Mr. Darmody. Do you want Trump to win?”

“Well, everyone but our bosses seem to understand he’s already lost.”

Meyer and Charlie looked at each other. “Indeed. So this gambit, you are not committed to the idea of its success?” Meyer asked.

Jimmy looked from one to the other. “No. Call me a sap, but I’m a little concerned at Nucky and Rothstein deciding they can override election results.”

“We have learned from Mr. Rothstein, just like you have surely learned much from Mr. Thompson. But no one wants to be in school forever. And we all wish to wear the crown someday, but if they achieve this kind of power…”

“We’re fucked,” Jimmy said. “So what do you suggest?”

“You’ve heard of malicious compliance? We’re going to do exactly what AR and Mr. Thompson asked of us, to the letter. We will draw attention to this event. We will...support Trump’s team.”

“What Meyer means is we’re gonna let these Trump fucks screw up like always, and make sure everybody’s watching,” Charlie chimed in.

Jimmy, for the first time in a long time, grinned.

Meyer and Charlie headed into the Adult Bookstore to decide how to handle the owner. 

“Are you the fuckers responsible for messing up my Saturday? Do you know that Saturday represents one-half of my take for the week? Do you know that I’m down 35% overall versus last year thanks to the pandemic and your guy’s stellar handling of it?”

“We are terribly sorry for the disruption to your day. Of course, you must get something out of it. Perhaps this is a chance to grow your brand?” Meyer suggested.

“Are you here to deliver the groundbreaking news I can use someone’s idiotic decision to hold a presidential press conference at Harrow’s dirt pile to bring attention to my store? Thanks. I’ve worked that out for myself. What I need is money today so I can pay my power bill and order more stock.”

“Well, we can help with that as well. Charlie, get a basket.”

Meyer didn’t wait for Charlie to return with the basket. One wall of the shop smelled like an expensive saddlery, something Meyer only learned existed after going to work for Rothstein. The smell of fine leather was intoxicating. His eyes went straight to a rather evil-looking strap. 

Charlie watched him carefully examine the various whips and other leather objects of torture. Meyer stared straight at him as he snapped a thick strap and the noise sliced through the quiet shop. Charlie’s knees went a little weak, thinking of what it would feel like to stand still and bare in the back of the office, and hear the snap of the leather as Meyer swung the strap. The slightly amused smirk on Meyer’s face made Charlie think Meyer knew exactly what he was thinking. Once Meyer had procured a variety of leather instruments (the flogger looked especially vicious), he turned his attention to the rest of the store. Various lubes, different types of restraints, nipple clamps, and other miscellanea flew into the basket. Meyer calmly ordered Charlie to reach up to a high shelf, well above Meyer’s grasp, and obtain a sex swing. As Charlie sat it on the counter Meyer murmured perhaps the beam in Charlie’s loft was strong enough, and Charlie had to shift his hips in an attempt to relieve the pressure against his fly. 

But it was the look on Meyer’s face when he discovered a display of Bluetooth enabled sex toys that sent Charlie reeling. 

“Jesus, Meyer, why don’t you just buy the whole fucking store?”

Meyer shot him a look. “I wouldn’t have the ability to stock and run the store as successfully as Ms. Wheet,” Meyer turned and gave his most charming smile to Sally. Charlie never had the heart to tell him it was vaguely terrifying. “Would you permit us to use your facilities before we go?

Sally was still counting the wad of cash Meyer had pushed into her hand to pay for his bounty. “Sure,” she said, reaching under the counter and tossing him a key.

“Charlie,” Meyer said quietly, pulling a box and a tube of Liquid Silk Lube from their pile of purchases and motioning for Charlie to follow.

Meyer ripped through the packaging before Charlie even had the door shut. “How many times have we talked about not riling Darmody up every time we must deal with him?”

Huh, Charlie thought. They were in the restroom of a sex shop and Meyer wanted to talk about fucking Darmody? Meyer had freed the not small butt plug from its packaging and was staring right at him. Charlie licked his lips in anticipation.

“Bend over,” Meyer said, and at the first touch of Meyer’s hand on his back, Charlie naturally submitted.

* * *

Angela walked out of the back office carrying her laptop proudly at the same time as Jimmy burst in through the sales counter door.

“Jimmy?” Clara and Angela said at the exact same time and then turned to stare at each other.

“Clara? Angela?” Jimmy asked in utter disbelief. 

Richard looked between his friend and the two strangers who were standing at his counter.

“Mommy?” Tommy asked uncertainly and reached over to grab Richard’s arm and climb off the counter. Richard swung him to the floor.

“Mommy?” Jimmy repeated in disbelief.

“You know each other?” Clara asked, looking between Angela, Tommy, and Jimmy as the realization hit her. “Jimmy, this kid’s last name is Darmody. Want to explain?”

“I thought you were dead,” Angela said, grasping her MacBook closer to her chest.

“I...enlisted,” Jimmy said.

“The day after we got married?”

“The fuck, you’re married?” Clara said, and then looked down at Tommy. “Sorry, kiddo.”

“How old is he?” Jimmy managed to ask.

“He was three in July,” Angela spat out.

“Jesus, Jimmy,” Clara said, and then looked guiltily back at the kid who was staring up at her with an exact replica of Jimmy’s smile.

“You say bad words!” Tommy cried happily. He loved hearing bad words.

“I’m Clara Thompson, this idiot’s foster sister,” Clara said to Angela. “It’s lovely to meet you, I wish I could say I had heard absolutely anything about your existence.”

“Ange,” Jimmy said softly.

“Don’t, don’t fucking…” Angela turned around and fled back through to the office.

Jimmy followed. Richard noticed the man had a limp, but his attention was taken up by the fact Tommy looked like he was going to cry. 

Richard leaned down. “Did you. Finish your. Picture?”

Tommy nodded, picked it up, and showed it to him. 

Richard steadied Tommy’s wrists so he could examine the picture. “Hmm. A whale. Taking a bath.”

Clara stared at the picture but was unable to see anything but bright scribbles. Goodness, but he was good with...Jimmy’s kid. What the hell. That made Tommy her nephew, and quite likely the only one she’d ever get, she thought. Damn, she wished she had any idea how to talk to a kid. She would’ve spent more time with her cousins if she’d known an adorable nephew was in the offing.

Richard saw her staring at the boy, and realized somehow this woman was related to Tommy. 

“Show. Mmm, Clara,” he told Tommy.

Oh, my hands, Clara thought. I’ve been all over the city, I’m so bad about touching my mask, I can’t touch this kid. She reached into her Oxblood leather Feed bag (that served three purposes well-the purchase donated food to the hungry, it announced to the world she was the type of person who cared about feeding the hungry, and it was sturdy enough to carry the multitude of items she deemed necessary for getting through the day) and started searching for the new bottle she swore she tossed in yesterday.

“I just need some hand sanitizer,” she said, still looking.

“Mmm. Here. I have some,” Richard said.

He reached for the hand sanitizer. Clara smiled, took a step forward, and turned her hand over. Oh, he thought, she wants me to put some in her hand.

Leaning a little closer, he was now close enough that he could smell her. Oranges and vanilla. His breath hitched he brought the bottle of sanitizer down closer to her hand. He stared at her palm. The freckles ended around the skin of her palm but marched down her wrist and continued under the sleeve of her sweater. Suddenly he wondered where else the freckles were and weren’t across her skin. 

He tried to remember the last time he was this close to someone, so close to touching someone. Angela had slowly become his friend, and Angela started bringing Tommy, when Tommy hadn’t seem bothered by his monstrous face, Richard had known what it was like to have someone be truly fond of him for the first time in a long time. Since from before. And he enjoyed being around kids. He always had. He always thought he’d get out of the military, start an organic farm, find a nice woman, and have a big family. Kids playing in haylofts, riding bikes, reading books in front of the fireplace. But that had all seemed lost with the left side of his face.

But having a woman stand so close, waiting for him not to touch her, exactly, but be close made his heart pound with anxiety and desire. He wanted to know what her hand felt like. He also wanted to go find a tree to chop down. It was all very confusing.

Clara watched as he flicked the flip-top of the hand sanitizer bottle. His hands were so large, she thought as she watched his thumb run across the top of the bottle a couple of times. And so well-tended. They were standing close to each other, she realized, so close she could tell he smelled like grass, leather, and laundry detergent and it was a heady combination that made her head spin a bit. She couldn’t remember the last time she stood so close to someone not in her pod. She could see the stubble coming out the bottom of his mask and down his throat towards the scar. What would he taste like, she thought wildly if she ran her tongue along his throat? As good as he smelled? What would the difference in texture feel like under her tongue? It took every bit of her self control not to lean over and find out. When he flipped the bottle over her breath caught.

They both watched the sanitizer spurt from the bottle onto the palm of her hand. It was quite a bit more than he meant to dispense. The coolness felt calming against Clara’s suddenly overheated flesh and she didn’t move or attempt to rub her hands together. 

Richard sat the bottle back down on the counter. “Mmm. Sorry, I didn’t mean. To…”

Clara slid her hand on top of his and managed to turn their hands so they were palm to palm. They weren’t touching, not exactly, but the only thing keeping their flesh apart was the thin barrier of antibacterial gel. Suddenly she pressed down so that her palm was pushing the gel across his hand.

The door opened. Luciano and Lansky were staring at them.

“Clara Thompson? The fuck you doin’ here?” Luciano asked.

“Richard is my friend,” Clara said, realizing her hand was still in his. She squeezed. “I’m here to make sure this doesn’t hurt him.”

“Since when you friends with Trumpsters?” Charlie asked.

“She’s not,” Meyer said with a half-smile. “Clara is very loud about her feelings. Mr. Harrow, that must mean you are not a Trump supporter?”

“Mmm, no.”

“Then what the fuck are you doin’ involved…”

Meyer lifted his phone, and suddenly Charlie stopped talking and made an expression both Clara and Richard took as one of pain. At the same time, they both heard a buzzing noise that they thought were their phones and both looked down.

“Are you okay?” Clara asked when she saw it wasn’t her cell buzzing.

“F-fine,” he managed to get out. 

Tommy pulled on Richard’s leg, and Richard picked him up to set on the counter. Meyer instantly stopped the toy, and Charlie sagged as he grabbed onto the counter.

“Why are you two here? Making sure Rothstein’s puppet stays enthroned?” Clara asked.

“You were the one dating that smug prick Don Junior,” Charlie snapped.

“Because my father made me! God, not of my own free will! He smelled like two-day old sweat and had the conversation skills of a drunk snail.” Clara responded.

“Always your fucking excuse,” Charlie taunted her. “My daddy made me do it.”

“Charlie,” Meyer said evenly. “Let’s focus, please. Clara, we no more want Trump reelected than you do. I believe fascists are for punching, not for supporting.”

“So what’s your plan?” Clara asked, and then she realized. “You are going to give them a stage and let them hang themselves.”

Jimmy came banging out of the back office with Angela on his heels. “All I know is your mother showed up and next thing I know…”

Gillian, Clara thought, of course! She should have known. Something was going on that week before Jimmy enlisted out of nowhere. 

“Would you help draw attention to the event?” Meyer asked, aghast at Jimmy arguing with some random woman during this inopportune moment.

Clara plucked two phones from her bag and smiled. “Try and stop me.”


End file.
